


Cooking spaghetti with Undyne

by morefishplease



Series: Comfy Fish Stories [39]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Cooking, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 20:52:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10704861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morefishplease/pseuds/morefishplease
Summary: What it says in the title. Due to having originally been written and posted for a different site most of my stories' titles are just descriptions of the story, and I'm too lazy to make up meaningful titles for everything.





	Cooking spaghetti with Undyne

“I’m telling you, Undyne,” you repeat as she drags you out to the kitchen, grip tight around your hand, hair light and bouncing as she bobs up and down in excitement, “I’m not going to be much use. My cooking skills –“

“Yeah, yeah, you’d burn a salad,” she says, cutting you off. She roots around in the cupboard, gets out the saucepan. You groan.

“Can’t you cook anything but spaghetti?”

A wide-eyed expression of shock. “What’s wrong with spaghetti?”

You roll your eyes, laugh. “Nothing, spaghetti’s fine.”

“We could make something else,” she says, looking back in the cupboard, suddenly uncertain. You reach out, take her hand, grab the pan when she nearly drops it, startled at your sudden nearness.

“Undyne,” you tell her, wrapping your other hand around her hip, squeezing her into you, “spaghetti is fine.”

“You’re sure?” she blinks at you, and you stare into those brilliant golden eyes, feel a sudden urge to kiss her. You lean in, your lips meet. Undyne’s are soft and smooth and sweet and she kisses you back hungrily, nibbling lightly on your lower lip. When you finally break apart Undyne is lightly flushed and grinning. “Don’t try to distract me,” she tells you, the smile curling her words up with amusement.

“Alright,” you say, trying not to smile too hard, “what can I do?”

“Hmm…go and get the pasta from the pantry and the meatballs from the freezer, huh?”

 

▪ ▪ ▪

 

While the pot boils you sit down at the table, watch Undyne bustle around, cleaning the counter. She gets very focused; if you came up behind her, put your arms around her, she’d probably bat you away, finish what she was doing first. You can tell from her narrowed eyes, the thin precision she uses. There, she’s bending down, eyeing some offending spot closely. She rubs at it once, twice, moves on. Look at the way her shoulders flex as she puts the dishes away, big slabby shoulderblades like axeheads. In bed you kiss her back and grin despite the scars, for her skin is smooth and warm and inviting. She always murmurs, cuddles further backward into you, proffers different parts for you to kiss, sometimes her arms, sometimes her shoulders, sometimes her legs, although those are very ticklish and she usually starts giggling, a sweet little burble like a stream and pushes you off, gathers you in her arms, holds you tight while she chuckles.

“It should be about ready,” Undyne says, and you get up, poke at the spaghetti gingerly. She bounces over, peers over your shoulder. “Yep,” she says, kissing you on the cheek, “looks good. Put it in the colander over the sink, will you? And don’t burn yourself.”

 

▪ ▪ ▪

 

Undyne never learned to twirl her spaghetti, she explains as she cuts with the edge of her fork. You take another bite of garlic bread and offer to teach her but she shrugs. “Too much work,” she says. “This is faster.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Okay, I will,” Undyne grins at you, slurps her spaghetti, and you laugh at her. She’s still pleased with herself; even though she knows how to make spaghetti perfectly well she still pats herself on the back when she’s done. Aside from a little incident where she forgot to turn off the stove, there were no hiccups. She glances at your plate, judges how much you’ve eaten. “How do you like it?” she asks.

“It’s really good,” you tell her, smiling. You still have half a plate left but you’ve been savoring it – and Undyne.

“You sure?” she asks, a note of anxiousness creeping into her voice. “You still have a lot left.”

“I’ve been a little distracted,” you confess, and you see the corner of Undyne’s mouth twitch, see her eyes soften.

“Oh yeah?” she asks, starting to grin. “By what?”

“By you,” you tell her, and you see her blush with pleasure, lean back in her chair, eyes fixed on you.

“Do tell,” she says.

“You’ve got cute shoulders,” you tell her, and she glances at them, smiles.

“It’s the freckles, right?”

“Uh huh,” you nod, “and a cute smile…”

She breaks out into the goofy grin you like so much, just like you knew she would. “Oh stop,” she tells you, but she can’t keep the happiness from her voice.

“And cute eyes –“

But this is too much for poor Undyne and she blushes furiously, springs over the table in a mighty leap, tackles you out of your chair to the kitchen floor, stops your mouth with a flurry of kisses.

**Author's Note:**

> Back to simple stuff. Not a lot to comment on here. I personally very, very rarely eat spaghetti because I abhor messy food, but if I did eat it, I, like Undyne, would cut it with my fork because I never learned to twirl either.


End file.
